Sand In My Eyes
by LostAndLonging
Summary: In a different universe, the Guardians are not the kind protectors they are thought to be. Jack Frost has been abused by them ever since he became a Guardian, but one day, their abuse goes too far. When Jack wakes up the next day, however, it is to find that everything he once thought he knew has changed and what was previously evil is now good. Why have the Guardians changed?
1. Chapter 1

Despite what some might say, the pain was not lessened due to the fact that Jack had experienced it many times before. If anything, it hurt more. More, because as Bunny beat him with vicious kicks and punches, previous wounds and old scars were aggravated. More, because Jack was so tired of being hurt.

It had started, as had many of the beatings Bunny subjected him to, due to a paltry offense. Jack had snorted a little when one of the elves in the North Pole had accidentally soaked Bunny head to tail with milk. Apparently that was enough for Bunny to give Jack a couple kicks.

Thankfully, none of the other Guardians were around. Jack knew from years of experience that the more Guardians there were, the more pain there was to be had. Each one seemed to feed off the other's hatred towards Jack and the amount of pain he was in. If any of the other three were there, Jack knew he would incur more than just a few bruises and a bloody nose.

After another few punches, Bunny finally seemed satisfied and stepped back. Jack was curled into a ball, eyes shut and head turned away from the Guardian, but he could sense eyes on him and knew Bunny was examining how injured he was. After a few moments he gave an approving hum and moved away, leaving Jack bruised and alone. Jack waited a few more seconds just in case, then slowly began to pick himself up.

Ribs injured from countless pummeling throbbed as he stood and Jack felt tears well up in his eyes as a broken but never quite healed wrist gave a stab of pain. Even if this most recent beating hadn't injured him much, previous ones still haunted him.

Jack limped back to his room in North's workshop and collapsed onto the bare floor, exhausted. He leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. His chest seized with phantom pains and he let a quiet sob escape his lips. He had been with the Guardians for three years now, and for two of them had quietly endured their taunts, their mind games, their beatings, yet it never seemed to grow easier. In fact, Jack had steadily grown more and more tired, more and more damaged. Jack was immortal, but he was still capable of feeling pain, and the pain he experienced only increased over time.

He gazed around at his room, bare even of the necessities. The Guardians had decided to keep him there in order to keep an eye on him; to stop him from wreaking havoc with his freakish, monstrous powers over winter. But North, all icy chill and Russian harshness, had said Jack had no need for even a bed. He'd gone without one for three hundred years, after all. Why should he need one now? The others had all agreed, and so Jack was thrown into this room and that was that.

The entire room was hospital-white, save for questionable brown stains that littered its floor and walls. In another world, Jack thought he would've loved the color white. After all, it was the color of snow and snow was what he loved most- in fact, the only thing he loved. In this world, however, Jack hated white because it was the color of his prison. He heaved a heavy sigh and traced his fingers across the floor, watching as iridescent frost crawled along the dirty floor. His ribs gave another painful throb and he reached a hand under his shirt to numb it.

He still remembered the first few months of his Guardianship with clear, unadulterated longing. At first, they'd been decent to him, even kind. Jack had still lived at his lake in Burgess back then, had still been free of the Guardians. It wasn't until months later that they'd forced him to move in in order to 'keep him from messing up any more than he already had.' It wasn't until months after that that the abuse had started.

Jack wasn't dumb; of course he knew what the Guardians were doing to him. In the centuries he'd lived, he'd seen nearly every form of abuse. But yet, when he'd first been subjected to it himself, he'd looked past the red flags and made excuses. _Oh, they just want to protect me. It's fine._ And _it doesn't matter that they took my staff, I don't deserve to have it anyway._ But Tooth's insults had gradually escalated along with Bunny's once light punches, and then North had joined and finally Sandy. Every problem they ran into was Jack's fault, even if he had had absolutely nothing to do with it. And so eventually he began to wonder if maybe they were right, and he _was_ the problem, the person who did everything wrong.

After all, how else could he have walked this earth for three centuries and yet still remain unseen by its children?

* * *

Hours later, Jack jerked awake to the sound of angry voices coming down the hallway, nearing his door. He stiffened automatically, curling into a ball and praying to the Man in the Moon that whoever it was wasn't coming down there because of him, but Manny, like usual, was not on his side. Less than ten seconds later, the door burst open and in stepped four _very_ angry Guardians. With the utmost horror, Jack remembered the satchel of food he'd secreted away and the map inside it- escape plans.

He was willing to bet that was what they were here for.

Jack cowered against the wall, eyes already closing in preparation of the coming onslaught. "I'm sorry," he said frantically, desperately hoping against hope that he could escape his fate, or at least lessen it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"Ya tried to escape again!" Bunny yelled, one hop serving to narrow the distance between the two completely. "What did we say would happen if ya ever tried that again?"

Jack let out a whimper, clutching his ribs protectively. "P-Please! I'm already injured, please just let me heal, o-or Sandy could..." he blanched, unable to even finish the sentence, but his words went unheeded.

"He tried to escape," Bunny said, glancing back at the other three Guardians and completely ignoring Jack. "What'd'ya think, mates?"

"He deserves to be punished for that," Tooth said her familiar, sickeningly sweet voice. "He should be _grateful_ after all we've done for him."

"Yes, he deserves punishment!" North agreed. "Severe punishment!"

Jack kept his eyes down, so he couldn't see Sandy's response, but he assumed it was in agreement as well, for the four Guardians came closer until they were surrounding him. He opened his mouth to plead again for mercy, but before he could say anything, Tooth spoke.

"Staff, Jack," she told him.

Jack dared to look up at her, confused. They'd asked for his staff before in order to prevent him from flying away, but that was always after they beat him up, not before. As soon as he saw Tooth's expression turn into a vicious, sadistic grin, he paled. He looked around at the faces of the other three Guardians and for the first time realized just how serious it was.

He looked at their faces and he saw death.

Panicking, Jack grasped his staff tighter and surged into the air, shoving past them, flying desperately towards the window. _No no no please I'm not ready to die I'm not ready-_ he slammed into the window, hard, his momentum not enough to break the glass like he'd hoped it would be. The Guardians were already coming after him, Tooth taking to the air like he and gaining on him every second.

With a frantic noise, he iced over the window and flew into it once more. _Please crack please crack please crack._ The window gave, a crack appearing in the glass, but it didn't shatter and then the Guardians were upon him.

"No! No please please I didn't mean it I didn't mean it please please don't kill me please no!" Jack babbled on and on, a string of pleas and no's, on and on until Bunny silenced him with a resounding kick. Then another followed and another and another, and the silence was replaced with cries of agony as he felt already weakened ribs crack and other bones bruise and break. Jack's throat became hoarse from screaming, but as he looked at the Guardians, he knew it was far from over. But he also knew that if he didn't stop them, as enraged as they were, he'd die.

And so he screamed out one last time, "Please! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me anymore! I'm sorry I swear I am I-"

But North cut him off with one lash from the belt he'd just undone from around his waist. "You are naughty, you know what that means, yes? Naughty children get punished."

"North, sir, _please."_

But the belt only struck again, its fiery touch the only answer Jack got for all his pleading. Like he had so many times before, he retreated deep inside his mind, humming a silent song as the belt hit him over and over, trying desperately to think of something happy, of _anything_ happy.

He failed, like he always did.

The beating when on and on, the pain unchecked, vicious. Jack was almost unconscious by the time North was finally done with him. But Tooth and Sandy had yet to go, and Jack knew they were by far the worst of the four Guardians. North and Bunny were brute strength. Tooth and Sandy were slow, meticulous almost, and overwhelmingly sadistic. As Tooth smiled her sickening smile and held up a lighter, Jack felt in his stomach a low, deep dread that he wasn't going to survive this.

Twenty minutes later, Jack lay motionless on the ground, skin littered in smoking red welts as the Guardians laughed at his weakness, mocked his cries of agony. He felt his consciousness begin to slip away, but before it could the laughter stopped. Jack opened one eye and saw Sandy before him, a glowing, red-hot knife in one golden hand.

Jack could no longer scream, only croak brokenly as the searing heat sliced into his skin over. And over. And over again. As a winter spirit, he felt agony the likes no human would ever feel from the heat. He thrashed and cried and croaked, but Sandy was relentless. The other Guardians could be reasoned with, on occasion, but Sandy was unstoppable and immovable.

And finally, Jack realized that he was going to die there, now. At Sandy's hands.

"Man in Moon," he whispered brokenly, "Please."

The last things he saw before his vision went black were the soft rays of Manny's light, shining down on him into the room.

* * *

When he next woke up, he decided he must be in Heaven. There was simply no other reason his injuries were painless, no other reason everything was soft and warm and bright, no other reason there were...the voices of the...Guardians?

 _Still in Hell, it seems,_ he decided glumly. But then the voices neared and he heard Bunny mutter something about how terrible his acting was.

He instantly flinched away from where the voice had come and snapped his eyes open, staring at Bunny with wide, frightened eyes. "I'm sorry!" he said, pulling his legs up in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. "I wasn't trying to trick you or anything, I swear! I'm sorry!"

"What are ya talking about? You're halfway to death, ya don't need to worry about that!"

The entirety of Bunny's reply was completely lost to Jack, who continued to stare around at Bunny, Tooth, and North like a cornered animal. "Please don't hurt me," he said again. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because he knew that one more beating really would kill him. He had been beaten, bruised, whipped, burned, and cut. Jack was an immortal spirit, but not even he could emerge unscathed from the Guardians.

"Oh, Jack, of course we wouldn't hurt you. How could you ever even think that?" Tooth asked. The reassuring tone she'd used was completely lost on Jack, who instead took it as sarcasm and cowered further, mumbling out more pleas. His breathing was coming quicker every second and he knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. He desperately willed it away- the last time he'd panicked in front of a Guardian, he had been ridiculed for weeks. And that wasn't even half of it.

He bowed his head. "If you're going to do it, just do it," he murmured brokenly. "I can't run anymore, after all. You took my staff."

"Jack, what are you talking about?" That was North. Jack had completely forgotten he was even in the room; the reminder made him flinch violently. "Your staff, it is right here." North held it up and extended it towards Jack as some sort of peace offering.

But Jack made no move to accept it. In his three years as a Guardian, he had never once gotten a single gift from any of them. In the first few months, Bunny had given him some 'gifts' which consisted of pretending to give him something and then laughing as Jack opened an empty box. But that had gotten old to Bunny quickly, and since then the only thing given to Jack was pain.

So if North was trying to give Jack his staff...

"NO!" He shoved the offending object away, in his panic not seeing the bewildered expressions of the Guardians. "I'm sorry! Please, I didn't mean to try and escape, please forgive me! Please, haven't you already punished me enough?"

"Jack, what are you talking about 'escape'? We have punished you for nothing." North's tone was all confusion.

Jack lifted his head tentatively to look at the Guardians. All displayed the same confusion that had been in North's voice. Although Sandy loved to play mind games with Jack, never had he gotten the others involved. Was he upping his game now?

"I don't know what you're playing at, but please, if you're going to do it, just get it over with. Beat me up, burn me, I don't care. Do whatever you want." He lifted his head again and looked at Tooth, waiting for the sadistic gleam to come into her eyes. But it never did; she simply stared at him in confusion and hurt and dawning horror, and her expression perfectly matched the other two Guardians'.

"You think _we_ did this to you?" Bunny asked after a moment. His voice cracked in the middle. "Blimey, Frostbite..."

Frostbite? The only nicknames Jack had ever heard from Bunny were things like _worthless_ and _waste of space._ "Please," Jack said again. He didn't know what he was asking for anymore.

"Jack...we know it's hard to believe," North said slowly, "but we think you've been brainwashed."

The boy stared at him for a long moment.

Brainwashed?

And for the first time since he'd come to live at North's workshop, Jack threw back his head and let out a near-hysterical, bitter laugh. He figured he'd just throw caution to the wind at this point- after all, he'd already asked them to beat him up numerous times. What more could he possibly do to aggravate them?

"No offense, North, but you're going to have to tell Sandy to come up with something more believable next time."

"Tell...Sandy?" the older man asked. "What?"

"Oh, come on." Jack motioned at himself, wincing when something tugged on his arm. An IV. He was hooked up to an IV. Since when did the Guardians even let him into the medical bay, let alone hook him up to fancy machines? Damn, they sure were trying hard this time around. "Sandy's been messing around with my head for almost two years now. I didn't think he'd drag you guys along for the ride, though."

"Jack, this isn't- this isn't whatever you think it is." Jack still wasn't looking at anyone's face (eye contact was asking for a beating, he'd learned), but he could hear the hurt in North's voice. Which, wow. He'd never thought North would be that good of an actor. Consider him impressed. "We aren't..." he hesitated, searching for the right word. "We aren't trying to hurt you, Jack."

Jack crossed his arms but gave no response. He knew better than to argue with them. He was fully convinced that this was a trick- for what else could it be? There was absolutely no reason for the Guardians to, after all this time, suddenly change their behavior in this fashion. No reason...except to gain Jack's trust, betray him, and laugh at the heartbreak they caused.

"You've been gone for three years," Tooth said quietly after a long moment. Her voice was just as sad as North's. "Of course, three years is hardly long at all to a spirit, but still...we thought you were dead. And now..." a quiet rustle, and then Jack thought he heard... _crying?_ Tooth was _crying_ for him?

Regardless of whether or not this was an act, that didn't change the fact that the thought of Tooth crying in front of him, while completely foreign to him, was also unfathomably uncomfortable. Jack carefully edged away from the sound and considered plugging his ears with snow. If he couldn't hear them, after all, they couldn't trick him.

"What the sheila's trying to say," came Bunny's voice, just as subdued as the rest of them, "is...we found you in a snowbank two days ago. You were..." he hesitated. "Well, I'm sure you know."

Jack slowly looked down at himself. Every inch of his skin was marred in some way, whether it was via bruise, cut, or burn. It hurt to breathe, to move, to _exist._ Jack frowned and wondered how he was even still alive. The only time he'd come this close to dying before had been a year ago, and he hadn't even been this injured. He faintly and bitterly wondered if Manny had something to do with it- perhaps seeing Jack get abused day after day was amusing to him in some sick, sadistic way.

"Why am I not dead?" he questioned. His tone was emotionless and his face expressionless. He did not look up.

"It was a close thing, lemme tell you," Bunny told him. "If it weren't for the yetis-"

"No, I mean why did you not let me die? Surely it would've been so much easier for you." Jack froze, then realizing what he'd just done, flinched back. "I'm sorry! I'm s-s-s-"

"Jack, calm down," North said soothingly, "We are not offended. Do not worry."

"B-b-but I interrupted y-you, and-"

"Interrupted me?" Bunny scoffed. "You do that three times a minute! Why should we care about that?"

Jack finally looked up, staring at them all in utmost confusion. He wasn't sure what game they were playing, but he knew well that he had _never_ interrupted them at that frequency. He sat up straighter and stared around at them. Why were they making that up? "W-what?" The sudden motion excited his broken ribs and he winced, knowing better than to make a sound.

"Bunny, enough." North stepped up and put an arm on the other Guardian's shoulder. "All this talking must have made Jack tired. We will talk again tomorrow." He turned to Jack. "Get some rest, Jack. We will sort this out come morning." He turned and stepped out of the room, the other two Guardians following him out. As Tooth left, she turned the lights out, leaving Jack in darkness.

Jack lay awake for some time, trying to fit together the pieces of what had just happened and reconcile it with the Guardians he knew. But finally, his brain exhausted from the stress he'd put it under, he began to drift off. Within minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Firstly, I'd like to say that the original idea for this fic is not mine. The user I got it from is Memma546, and they got their idea from yet another user, Wilhelmina Vandom. But despite my appalling unoriginality in coming up with the premise, this fic is not going to be a carbon copy of either writer's fic or idea, but rather my own creation entirely.

Secondly, if you couldn't tell from the summary and tags, this story features a lot of abuse, both physical and psychological. I advise caution for anyone sensitive to this material.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

When Jack next woke up he was alone. The IV was still in his arm, and wires attached to his chest along with the steady beeping of the heart monitor meant he was still hooked up to those strange medical...things. He wasn't quite sure what to call them; in his three hundred years of loneliness, he'd not exactly gotten the chance to be treated in a human hospital. And the Guardians had refused to ever treat him themselves under the excuse that he should know how to take care of himself by now.

So...why had they changed their minds? Or rather, why was Sandy paying so much attention to seemingly insignificant details like that? And, more importantly, why hadn't he been there himself when the rest of the Guardians had? Surely he'd want to see how well his trickery was working on Jack.

The Spirit of Winter heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes again. Even though his head and limbs felt heavy- he'd heard humans speak of this thing called 'painkiller' and assumed that was what the IV was pumping into him- the pain still lingered, haunting him, reminding him of what had happened. He vividly remembered Bunny's animalistic grunts as he'd beaten Jack; the slap of North's belt; the cruel laughter of Tooth. He pressed into one of the cuts Sandy had made and winced. Since the tool that had created the mark had been hot, it would take far longer to heal. He might have to bear Sandy and Tooth's marks for weeks on end.

"Wind," he murmured softly, "You there?" His only friend rushed comfortingly around him. Without his staff she could not lift him, but she could still talk to him in her own way, could still reassure him with her presence. "What do you think is going on?" he asked next. Wind had no spoken language, but rather communicated through thoughts and impressions. She gave a figurative shrug and he got a clear impression of her response: _I have no idea._ "Yeah, me neither. It just doesn't make sense why Sandy'd want to bring in the other Guardians. Wouldn't it make it harder to keep up the lie?"

Again, a message of complete confusion and ignorance from the Wind. "Well, I guess we'll just have to sit this one out until they get tired of it. I won't fall for their tricks, not...not anymore." Jack's expression darkened and his hands clenched, memories he'd tried so desperately to suppress unwillingly coming to the forefront of his mind. He gritted his teeth and forced his thoughts elsewhere, forced himself to wonder about the Wind and the children- was it around Easter, or had it already passed? Bunny never told him when Easter was coming.

Then Jack was torn from his reflections when a knock sounded on his door. For a moment he could only stare at it in confusion, unable to remember the last time the Guardians had allowed him to have a closed door, but finally he mumbled, "Come in."

He couldn't remember the last time someone had knocked, either.

The door opened and to his dismay, North stepped in. Jack cringed back instantly and folded himself up as small as he could get, staring wide-eyed at the Guardian. But once again Jack refused to look at North's face, and therefore completely missed the pain that spread itself over North's expression.

"Jack, how are you feeling today? Any good...er, better?"

Jack just stared at the Russian's shoes and did not respond. There was no reason for North to suddenly care about his well-being, so this was part of the trick as well. And although refusing to respond often granted Jack beatings, he thought that it might at least serve to unveil their trick- and, since he was so badly injured, North would surely go easy on him. All in all, a win-win situation.

"We are all very worried about you," North said next. "Bunny thinks Pitch has something to do with, but I am not sure. But, at same time, we do not know anyone else who could have..."

Silence.

"Tooth sends her hopes for swift recovery." North was getting increasingly jumpy: shuffling around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Jack put it down to irritation at not being able to punch his lights out. "She wanted to stay here, but tooth collecting does not run itself."

Silence.

"Well, if that is all, I will let you rest, Jack. Is there anything you need?"

Jack pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut.

"Alright. I will come to check on you soon, yes? In few hours?" A moment of silence; then Jack heard movement and cringed back, closing his eyes against the inevitable blow. But North's footsteps got farther away instead of nearer, and then the door shut. Jack slowly opened first one eye, then the other, uncomprehendingly. He couldn't believe he'd managed to get away with what he'd just done. North's faith in Sandy must be tremendous. Jack shivered at the thought of what that meant for him.

Now that he was alone and awake- the present time presumably being morning- Jack decided to check and see how well his injuries were healing. But when he checked, he was dismayed to see they'd made very little progress, if any at all. The bruises present in alarmingly large quantities had faded little if any at all, their color changing only from blue to faint green or from black to brown. He took a testing breath and winced at the accompanying ache in his chest. At least four ribs seemed broken, and others besides sorely bruised.

Next, he looked at his limbs and tested out as many of his joints as possible. Most seemed fine, but one wrist was sprained and when Jack tried to move his right leg, he felt something sharp inside his flesh pierce something else and bit down on his bottom lip, hard. _A break, then,_ he decided grimly, _and a bad one at that._ Without his staff his powers were severely limited, but over the years Jack had learned how to deal. He gritted his teeth and held both hands over his leg, concentrating hard. His magic reacted exactly as he willed it to, binding his limb in a thin case of ice and setting the bone properly. For a moment he wondered why the Guardians hadn't set it themselves, but he supposed that must've been one line they weren't willing to cross.

With a low sigh, Jack settled back into bed. Now that he'd made sure that everything was (mostly) functioning properly, he was tired. If the Guardians wanted to pretend that they cared about him...let them. Jack would at least take advantage of their kindness, no matter how fake it was.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction of that decision, Jack closed his eyes and soon fell once more into sleep.

* * *

Jack was woken up next by a loud crash.

He jolted upright in an instant and surged out of bed, gripping the heart monitor in an attempt to get his weight off his broken leg. He glanced around wildly, looking for the source of disturbance. _Please don't be S-_ his gaze finally locked onto the creator of the noise: Bunny. Upon seeing him, Jack let out a sound that might've been a whimper or a squeak and stumbled backwards, landing on his broken leg, _hard._ He fell gracelessly to the floor. A scream he desperately strangled down threatened to rise from his throat, and he slowly looked up once more at the Guardian.

Except, to his utmost horror, Bunny wasn't the only Guardian in the room. North stood there, too, looking just as horrified as Jack felt. Jack allowed his eyes to wander just the slightest bit to either side, but Tooth and Sandy were absent, thank Manny. _However,_ he thought grimly, _that doesn't change the fact that_ they _are still here._

"Frostbite? You alright?"

Jack dared to raise his eyes to Bunny's face for an instant. Like he'd half-expected, the Guardian of Hope's face was concerned and horrified and hurt. None of them were emotions Bunny had ever directed towards him, but Jack supposed he must be a good actor.

"Frostbite?" Bunny asked again when Jack failed to answer. "Jack, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sir." Jack lowered his eyes again and heaved himself to his feet, heavily favoring his broken leg.

Bunny let out some sort of sound between a wheeze and a croak. _"Sir!?"_ he exclaimed. "Since when do you call me _sir!?"_

Jack sighed. Despite his injuries and the thin line he knew he walked between being left alone and being beaten up once more, it rankled him to let the Guardians think they could pretend they'd done no wrong- like _Jack_ was the one who remembered incorrectly.

"For three years," he said coldly, "Ever since you made me a Guardian."

Silence.

"Jack." That was North's voice. "You have been Guardian for seven years."

 _That_ was unacceptable. He dared to look up again, crossing his arms protectively over himself. If they wanted to play that all this was in his head, then by Manny he would get mad at them! It was one thing to pretend they were sorry for what they'd done to him for years. It was another entirely to pretend like it had never even happened. "Like _hell_ I have," Jack hissed, glaring at them. "Like _hell_ you're gonna trick me into believing that. I know my own life, thank you very much. I lived three hundred years alone, then you dragged me into fighting Pitch. Then you forced me to take the Guardian's oath. A year later, you forced me to live here, at your workshop. Then for two years up until now, _you-"_ he pointed a finger trembling from fear or rage or both at the Guardians- "have beaten me, _you_ have tortured me, _you_ have made me wish I never existed."

Bunny's expression was rapidly turning enraged, but something inside Jack wouldn't stop until he'd let it all out. He continued, _"You_ are the ones who told me I was worthless, I was toxic, I was a monster. _You_ are the ones who'd sometimes pretend you were sorry or would let up, only to fall right back into beating me up like that never happened. _You_ are the ones who let- let S-San-" he broke down, falling back on the ground and curling into a ball, sobbing.

"Sandy? What did Sandy do?" North asked gently.

But Jack refused to answer. He curled up tighter, and now his sobs changed into whimpered pleas and apologies, begging Bunny and North not to hurt him anymore. Over and over again he murmured one word. _Please._

The two Guardians exchanged glances. Without any words said, they knew it would be worse than useless to try and calm Jack down. It was obvious he truly believed what he'd said- that the Guardians had brutally abused him for three years. Any attempt to approach him would only make him worse. They needed to back off for the time being. Perhaps later, when Jack was calmer, they would try again.

With one last look at the youngest Guardian, they stepped out of the room and quietly shut the door.

* * *

 _From its spot hidden away under the bed, the dark, shapeless form watched with glee._ Soon, _he thought, and his brothers echoed the thought with relish. Soon, their time would come to once more step out of the shadows. Soon, they would once more rule the land._

 _And as the Spirit of Winter cried, the darkness laughed silently and knew that their Prince would soon rise._

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't worry: all will be explained. Eventually. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

He picked himself back up what felt like hours later. He wiped the tear-tracks from his face, cursed his weakness, heaved himself once more into the bed. He fleetingly glanced at the boarded up window, wishing he knew what time it was. Confined in the infirmary without his staff, he felt trapped, uneasy, and wondered if that was the Guardian's intent: to subtly let him know who's in charge even now.

Once he was back in bed he took inventory once more. Sometime in the intermediary time between seeing Bunny and falling on his butt in hysterics, the thin sheet of ice encasing his leg had broken and he could once more feel the fractured bone protruding into areas of his skin it had no business being in. Grimacing, he held his hands over the leg once more and grew a second ice cast, following up with another one around his throbbing ribs. The cold numbed the pain and the hard ice protected him from mild external injuries- and, because he was a winter spirit, the ice melded naturally to his skin, following his breathing patterns perfectly. He wouldn't have to worry about it constricting his breath.

Now that that was taken care of, Jack decided to turn his attention to a more pressing problem: the Guardians. What was their play here? If they had wanted to completely and utterly confuse Jack, they had succeeded. Not only was their behavior markedly changed (although Bunny had seemed to briefly break character in the middle of Jack's tirade), they were also trying to convince him of things he knewwere false. Jack _knew_ he hadbeen a Guardian for three years, not seven. He _knew_ Bunny and the other Guardians had demanded Jack call them sir or ma'am. He _knew_ he never interrupted a Guardian purposefully.

What confused him more was that those things were so...random. Sure, Jack understood they were trying to trick him into thinking he was insane, but out of all the details to have picked, why _those_ ones? Why pick the ones they had insisted on in order to have Jack show them more respect? Why declare out of the blue that Jack's entire life was off by four years?

Groaning in frustration, Jack held his hand to the ceiling and watched as a trail of frost crept across the red-and-gold paint. He could vaguely remember the last time he'd been in the infirmary. It had been barely into his second year with the Guardians, the day North had told him to stay at his workshop. Jack had been targeted and attacked by two summer spirits. Even though Jack, as the head spirit of Winter, had powers greater than the average spirit, the two summer seasonals had taken him by surprise and he'd gotten pretty badly beaten up. Thinking back, that was one of the last times the Guardians had been nice to him.

A noise.

Jack stiffened. He slowly turned his head to the door in dread and saw the knob begin to turn. Even though he knew it would do nothing against a Guardian, he concentrated hard and formed a snowball in one hand, ready to throw-

But then the door opened and a yeti stepped in. It saw he was awake, blinked in surprise, and garbled out something unintelligible.

Jack blinked as well. Yet another rarity: one of North's yetis treating him well. Not that they beat him up or anything, but they'd never once gone out of their way to do anything nice for him. In fact, it had been the head yeti...Phil, maybe? Who'd turned him in the first time Jack had tried to escape.

In fact...Jack squinted at the creature, trying to make out its features. "Are you...Phil?"

The yeti looked surprised, almost hurt, and said something else while giving a reluctant nod. Jack faintly realized it was holding something in its hands. A tray. A tray with a glass of water and...were those _cookies?_

"Why...what is that?" He half expected the yeti to point to itself and say something along the lines of _oh, I thought I'd eat these in front of you and laugh about how hungry you are._ But Phil the Yeti nodded at him and walked over to his bedside. He made to set the tray down but upon seeing Jack's tense, defensive posture, paused. He said something else and cocked his head at Jack.

Now, having been alive three centuries and having flown all throughout the entire world in order to spread snow and ice (after all, even Africa had some pretty nice mountains), Jack had picked up quite a lot of languages. He wouldn't say he was _fluent_ in all of them seeing as he'd picked up many different dialects, but Jack could say that he understood a lot of the basic structures that held together languages- even one as obscure as Yetish. And even though he couldn't understand the individual words, the Yeti's actions and the general structure of his speech seemed to be a question. Perhaps, since he was still holding the tray out to Jack, he was asking if Jack was hungry.

"Um...are you asking if I'm...hungry?" he practically whispered the last word, afraid to be wrong. Phil nodded, seemingly pleased that Jack had interpreted him correctly.

Jack hesitated a moment longer. Spirits didn't often get hungry; generally, a meal every few weeks was enough to keep one running fairly well. But it _had_ been practically a week since he'd last been fed, and with the injuries on top of it...

"Is it poisoned or something?" he'd meant it as a light-hearted joke, but somehow it came out more serious than he'd intended. Phil scowled at him and Jack flinched back defensively, holding his hands out in front of him as a barrier. "Sorry, sorry, just asking."

Phil set the tray down surprisingly gently for something of his size and stepped back. Jack gingerly picked up a cookie, eyes flicking between it and the yeti. When Phil made no move to leave, Jack bit into it.

"Phil, these are amazing!" he gushed before he could think to stop himself, grinning wide at the yeti. "Did you make-" but then he remembered himself and stopped abruptly.

 _Don't speak unless you're spoken to, Trash._

"Sorry," he mumbled as an afterthought. He doubted the yeti would hurt him- in fact had never had a yeti hit him in his entire two-year stay at North's workshop- but he couldn't help himself.

Phil grunted something out. It could've been _for what?_ It could've been _is that the only apology you're giving me?_ In any case, Jack set the cookie back down, suddenly not hungry anymore. Phil didn't seem to like that, which was odd, for why should the yeti care how much he ate? Finally Jack decided his joke about poison must've been correct... except, problem was, he didn't feel like the Guardians would poison him. It wasn't their style.

Sighing in frustration, Jack lay back again, keeping one eye on Phil. The past two days had flung him from a depressing, abusive routine into a confusing maelstrom. He had no idea what was going on, no idea what was up or down or wrong or right. As he heard Phil leave the room, he once more resolved to sit tight until the Guardians revealed their hand.

* * *

 _"No! I'm sorry! I swear I'm so, so sorry! I'll- I'll clean the workshop! I scrub the floors, I'll make dinner, just please don't hurt me." Jack looked at North, at Bunny. "Please."_

 _"Fine." Eyes wide with hope, Jack looked_ _up at Bunny, but then hope's Guardian picked him up roughly and began walking. "Beatin' ya up's a waste o' time, anyway. I'll give ya over to Sandy. He can take care of ya."_

 _"Sandy?" Jack asked, confused. Sandy had never laid a hand on him. He'd never interfered, either, but Jack had thought he was a pacifist. At least, that was the impression he'd gotten after three hundred years of being semi-acquaintances with him._

 _North let out a deep laugh that made Jack's stomach flutter uneasily. "Ah, good idea, Bunny! Sandy will deal with Jack."_

 _Mere minutes later, Bunny was kicking the door open to Sandy's guest room and striding in. The Guardians weren't usually all there together, but they'd had a meeting that day and Sandy and Bunny had both decided to stay the night. Sandy looked up at Bunny's arrival and sent a few signs swirling above his head._ What's wrong?

 _"Jacky boy here destroyed an entire set of North's toys. Y'know Christmas's only four months away and all, too."_

 _"It was an accident!" Jack burst out, but Bunny shook him roughly and growled at him not to speak out of turn. Not dissuaded, Jack tried again. "Please, Sandman, Bunny, I didn't mean to!"_

 _Sandy wore an expression Jack had never seen on him before. Usually if Sandy happened to be witness to another Guardian's cruelty his face was blank, expressionless. But now there was a strange glint in it that made Jack nervous- something almost sadistic. On Sandy's golden face, that glint of sadism somehow looked even scarier than it would normally._

 _"I trust I can leave 'im here with ya?"_

 _Sandy nodded. Bunny dropped Jack on the floor and turned, leaving with a casual farewell to his fellow Guardian. Jack started picking himself up off the ground, determined he'd at least stand his ground for the first few minutes of the beating- for after all, Sandy was a small man; how much could he really hurt Jack anyway- but a warm hand on his chin stopped him. Jack locked eyes with Sandy, who just looked at him for a few seconds, that unsettling glint still in his eyes._

 _Then the corners of his lips twitched upward. He formed a ball of dreamsand, and before Jack knew what was happening, he was unconscious._

Jack jerked awake with a strangled sob, panting. He clawed at his hair, his clothes, his face in blind panic, only realizing seconds later that it was a dream. What had happened after that...he didn't need to go through it again. He let out a short, shaky laugh that was half a sob. If he hadn't woken up when he had, he would've just had a dream within a dream. Wasn't there a movie the humans had written about that? Deception or something like that?

His heart rate had slowed down a little. Good, that was good. Jack took a few long, slow breaths to calm himself down further. _Just a dream,_ he reminded himself. _It was just a dream._

Of course, that didn't mean Sandy couldn't still make it hell.

 _Don't think about that. You're safe- for now. As long as you don't fall for this most recent plot of his..._

Right. The new game. The Guardians pretending to care about him. Jack scoffed a little. "Gonna need to try a little harder than that, Sandman," he murmured to himself.

Once he'd completely calmed down, he examined his ribs and leg to make sure the ice casts he'd made hadn't melted during his sleep. To his relief neither of them had, so Jack settled back into bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Wind?" he asked. "You there?" She swirled around him comfortingly and he smiled a little. She was, and always had been, his only friend. "Is it Spring yet?" He got an affirmation as response.

For several minutes he lay there, murmuring about nonsense things such as flowers and leaves and seasons. He didn't mention his current predicament, already knowing she wouldn't be able to help him. Although she was always there to listen, she was not like the other spirits. She didn't understand the difference between hate and love, or what it meant when a human stabbed another with a knife. She only understood the sun, the moon, the way the stars twinkled in the sky. She cared about Jack, of course- but that was only because he and she were bonded by nature, meant to work together in harmony. The wind understood nature in a way no one else ever could, but to her everything else was nonsensical.

But even still, she was willing to listen, and to talk about autumn mushrooms and summertime moonlight whenever it suited Jack's fancy. She was the only person in Jack's life who would do that for him, and it was definitely not something he took for granted.

Finally, exhausted by his nightmare and soothed by his conversation with Wind, Jack felt himself growing sleepy. Within an hour of waking up, he was fast asleep once more.

And, unknown to him, the dark shapes under his bed still lurked, waiting. _Not long now,_ they whispered to each other. _Not long until he is ready._

* * *

It was past four in the morning when Sanderson Mansnoozie, known to his friends as Sandy, landed his dreamsand airplane next to North and waved, gaining North's attention.

"Ah, Sandy." The exhaustion coupled with apprehension Sandy had noticed in North's eyes as Sandy had come into the room didn't fade upon seeing Sandy; instead, it increased. "I'm...glad you're finally here."

Something in the other Guardian's tone, in his expression as he looked at Sandy, seemed off. But there were more important things to speak of, so Sandy pushed the thought away and instead sent two symbols flying above his head: a snowflake and a question mark. It could've been interpreted in any number of ways: _is Jack here? How is Jack? Is he alive? Is he okay?_ but North chose only one of the potential meanings to respond to.

"Yes, Jack's alive. One of Tooth's fairies found him lying on the ground in India, of all places. Tooth and her fairies flew him up here herself."

Sandy nodded. Displayed the symbols again.

"How is he?" Sandy nodded again. "Well, he is...he is..." North hesitated. Sandy sent more symbols up above his head. _Would it be easier for me to see him for myself?_ North's eyes widened instantly and he spread out his hands. "That might not be the best idea," he said quickly.

Sandy's brow furrowed. He tilted his head and spread his hands. _Why not?_

"Jack..." Again, North paused. Whatever had happened to Jack must not have been good. "He is injured...very badly."

Sandy shrugged, looked confused. He didn't see how injuries should make it a bad idea for him to see Jack. After all, Sandy was the carrier of sleep and good dreams. Isn't that what injured people often needed the most?

"And...and, not only that, but..." North swallowed. Sandy tapped his foot impatiently, wanting North to get to the point already. "Jack thinks...we are the ones who did it to him."

Sandy's hands involuntarily moved to cover his mouth, even though he knew no sound would come out. He stared up at North in disbelief bordering on horror.

North nodded grimly at his reaction. "He...he thinks he has only been with us for three years, and that we have...hurt him. Badly."

Sandy barely heard anything North said after that. His mind worked furiously, trying to figure out how this could've happened. Jack had obviously been brainwashed; that much he knew. But well did Sandy know that even if it had been Pitch who'd done so, some things couldn't be faked. Even using nightmare sand. Which meant that at least some of what Jack had gone through was real. The only difference, perhaps, was between who had actually done it and who Jack thought it was.

If Sandy was right about this being Pitch's doing...

Sandy's golden hands tightened into fists. If Pitch was the one who had hurt Jack in this manner, Sandy would make sure the Nightmare King got his dues. There was only so much Sandy was willing to let slide, and centuries of like behavior had left Sandy's patience for Pitch on thin ice.

Turning to North and pushing his anger down, Sandy created a snowflake and a pair of glasses. _I want to go see him._

"Sandy, that is not good idea. We have no idea how he'll react to seeing you."

Sandy hesitated, knowing North was right. But he'd gone years wondering if Jack was dead and now that he was finally safe, the knowledge Sandy couldn't see him without hurting him more was not an easy thing to swallow. He sent another snowflake, followed by a tiny ball of dreamsand and a question mark.

"You want to give him good dreams?" North asked hesitantly. Sandy nodded enthusiastically. After all, it was the least he could do- if Jack really had been brainwashed by Pitch, Sandy had a feeling any sleep he had would be plagued by nightmares. Moreover, as late as it was, it was highly likely Jack was asleep. "Well...I will send Phil in there first, yes? If he is asleep, you can go in."

It wasn't ideal, but Sandy would take it. He nodded again. He would be the last of the Guardians to see Jack, the others having seen him when Jack was first found. When Tooth had first found Jack, she'd carried him to Bunny's warren, knowing it was much closer than North's workshop. Bunny's tunnels had then taken the three of them to North in record time. They hadn't even thought to summon Sandy until the next day, and even then the Sandman was notoriously hard to find. It had taken practically three days for Sandy to even get the message, but once he had, he'd flown there as quickly as possible.

Several minutes later Phil came back, nodding at Sandy and garbling out that Jack was asleep. Sandy smiled his gratitude and flew to the infirmary, opening the door and stepping in with his utmost quiet.

Then he stopped, staring at the sight before him in horror.

Jack was curled up into a ball, blankets strewn haphazardly across both him and the floor. Even though no nightmare sand surrounded him, he was shivering, brow furrowed as if he were in the midst of a nightmare.

But that was not why Sandy had recoiled, horrified.

Jack's face, his arms, his legs- all were covered in bruises. Sandy shook his head slowly, blinked a few times and took a step closer. No, not just bruises. From what Sandy could see of Jack's back, the white hospital gown covered a multitude of bandages, some of which were brown and red from blood soaking through. Over half of Jack's body seemed to be wrapped in those bandages, but some wounds had apparently been deemed minor enough to be uncovered- and in those wounds Sandy saw burns, slash marks, whip marks.

 _This is what he thinks we have done to him?_

Sandy stepped back, feeling sick. Vaguely, he wondered how Jack was even alive. Spirits were more hardy than humans, that was true, but even they could not hold up to that amount of abuse without first being conditioned-

Sandy's stomach dropped and he decided not to finish that thought. Instead, he walked towards Jack. Up close, the wounds were even harder to look at, but Sandy reminded himself that he hadn't come in there to stare uselessly at Jack. He'd come to help Jack in the only way he knew how: to give him good dreams. Taking a deep breath, the Sandman held out his hands and formed a ball of dreamsand. Its glow had dimmed considerably since he'd come into the room, but once again Sandy disregarded the thought for Jack.

He threw the dreamsand ball at Jack and watched as golden penguins and dolphins came to life above the boy's head, smiling slightly at how, even after all these years, Jack's taste in dreams still remained the same.

With one last glance at the youngest Guardian, Sandy stepped out of the room and silently shut the door.

* * *

 **A/N:** Now that I've revealed a little bit of the plot (along with dropping hints all throughout chapters one and two), what do you guys think is happening? Are the Guardians really genuine? Is Pitch involved? Is there more than one Jack?


	4. Chapter 4

When Jack woke up the next morning, it was to see telltale golden sand scattered around his bed, on his bed, on his clothes. Jack took one look at it and paled. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to think straight. Just because Sandy's dreamsand had been there didn't mean he had. Didn't mean he'd screwed with Jack's brain once again.

"This is real," he murmured to himself. "This is real." He pinched himself hard, focused on the pain and let it ground him. "This is real. I'm real."

He glanced around once more, memorizing every detail. No matter how much Sandy tried, a dream was never perfect. If he found the smallest inconsistency...

A knock on the door. Jack jumped, practically skidding off the bed. He clutched at the blankets and mumbled, "Come in."

Tooth fluttered in, giving him a smile. "Good morning, Sweet Tooth!"

Jack's stomach sank into his legs. His knuckles whitened around the covers.

"How are you feeling?" she rambled on. "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you lately; tooth collecting's not an easy job, after all!"

He felt tears prick his eyes as words, sentences came to his head. All from _her_ mouth. Bunny and North hurt, that was true. But physical pain could be eased with ice or painkiller, could be increased or decreased according to Jack's wishes. He had _control_ over that kind of pain. The pain Tooth brought...

"Jack? Sweet Tooth? Are you alright?"

He shook his head, meaning it to be disbelieving, but soon found he couldn't stop. "No," he muttered, then repeated the word louder. "No, you don't get to do this to me. You- you don't get to- to do everything you have, to _say_ the things you have, and then just come in here and- and act like it never happened!" He couldn't quite bring himself to look Tooth in the eye, but the anger in his tone remained unabated. "You can't do that!" Another sentence resounded through his mind, one he didn't have the courage to say. _How dare you come in here and do this to me?_

"Jack, I- what are you _talking_ about?"

Fury began to seep out of Jack, lowering the temperature of the air surrounding him. How dare Tooth pretend not to know what he was talking about. How dare she act like everything was normal, like she hadn't lowered him to depression, to despair, to self-hatred so bad he'd contemplated killing himself. How _dare_ she.

But still, those words refused to come from his mouth. He knew that even his current injuries wouldn't save him from the wrath that insult would earn him.

"Jack, sweetie, please talk to me. I need to know what happened."

 _Sweetie?_ She had the nerve to call him... Jack's jaw clenched along with his hands, the pain from the aching cuts and bruises and burns covering the skin going completely ignored. For the first time in months he allowed vicious, terrible hatred to well up inside him. Not just for Tooth herself, but for what she'd done to him; for those poisoned, sharp-tipped words that had cut into him and torn him apart, slowly. He hated her. He hated what she'd done to him. And she had the audacity to stand there and act like nothing was wrong. Like _he_ was the one with the problem.

And for the first time, he found himself wishing for his staff, but not to escape. Not to harness the wind and fly away, or use ice to heal wounds or break a lock. No. He wanted his staff...

He wanted his staff in order to hurt Tooth like she'd hurt him.

Parts of him rebelled against the thought, but he let the angrier part win, the part which murmured _three centuries of abandonment; three years of far worse._ He felt himself begin to shake from anger he'd suppressed for too long.

 _No,_ some part of him whispered, trying to sway him. _You don't have your staff, and even if you did, you're badly injured. If you attacked her and didn't win..._

He shuddered.

 _And,_ he thought with an inward grimace, _there's Bunny and North and...and Sandy too. Even if I could..._

His anger calmed, turning cool and stable once more. Tooth was watching him carefully, not even a hint of that malice and cunning he _knew_ had to be hidden there somewhere.

"Jack?"

He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how Sandy was playing this: if they were expecting him to come running into their arms and trust them immediately. He knew already that no matter what they said, what they did, he would never trust them. It made Jack wonder if Sandy was foolish for thinking Jack would ever trust them, or if the Sandman was that confident in his powers. But surely even dreams had their limits.

Tooth took a step closer to the bed; Jack instinctively shrank backwards, then instantly regretted it as he waited for Tooth to laugh, to hiss a mocking comment about his weakness. But she just looked at him with an expression Jack refused to read.

"What do you want?" he asked, a little harsher than he'd intended. "Ma'am?"

Tooth's step forward became a reflexive one back. "'Ma'am'?"

He could scarcely rein his annoyance in enough to keep his sarcastic comment to himself. "I'm...healing. I have food. I...I'll be back to work soon."

"Work? You mean...your work as Spirit of Winter?"

Again, that irritation he strained to master. "You forbade me from doing my duties as Spirit of Winter two years ago, after I screwed up so terribly I needed to be kept under supervision from then on. Remember?"

"Jack...Sweet Tooth, no, that- that didn't happen."

Jack clenched his fists, angry enough he didn't bother trying to hide the motion. As long as he didn't go too far, he knew he could play the 'severely injured' card if Tooth decided to get physical. And if she didn't...

Well...

It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard before, anyway.

"It _did_ happen," Jack ground out, cursing himself for the quake in his tone that revealed his apprehension in talking back to the Guardian. "It _did_ happen. I _did_ become a Guardian three years ago. I _did_ get cast from my job by you. Those things- they _did_ happen. You can't convince me otherwise, okay?" Jack's voice had risen higher, dangerously high. He was faintly surprised Tooth hadn't snapped yet, but decided she was biding her time for whatever reason. "I know it happened, and I won't let you try to tell me it didn't!"

"Jack..." Tooth's expression was impossible to read, even if he'd wanted to read it in the first place. "I know it's hard to believe, but Pitch...we think he brainwashed you into thinking we did this to you."

 _Liar,_ he thought with a silent hiss, not daring enough to say it out loud. _You liar._ He just glared at the floor, knowing that lifting his gaze would be a challenge but not glaring at all would be seen as acceptance- as losing the battle. Jack had _not_ lost. He would not give into whatever mind game Sandy was playing with him.

There was a long silence. Tooth finally broke it by asking, "Is there anything I can get for you? I know North always has milk around...it's about the only thing he has that's good for your beautiful teeth."

Jack continued staring at the floor, marking the cracks between each stone. At least Tooth's obsession with teeth hadn't changed- or her obsession with his teeth in particular. She'd often said that was the only good part of him; that he didn't deserve such beautiful teeth when he was such a disgrace.

"Or...are you hungry? Cookies _really_ aren't the best thing to eat but I'm sure I could get the yetis to make something in the kitchens! Oh, are you thirsty? When's the last time you had something to drink? Or..." Tooth rambled on, obviously on edge or nervous about something. Jack vaguely wondered if something bad had happened at the Tooth Palace, but if so, why would she be here? He knew she couldn't possibly be nervous because of _him._ Or, perhaps Bunny had threatened her again?

"Oh, I'm sorry Jack! I do ramble on sometimes..." she trailed off awkwardly, apparently only just sensing that Jack hadn't paid attention to her at all for several minutes. He debated cringing away and asking forgiveness for not listening, but depending on the day, that could just make it worse. He decided not to risk it and bowed his head, waiting for either dull fists or sharp words to be thrown at him.

Nothing.

When Tooth finally spoke, her tone was timid, almost. That emotion was so far from Jack's knowledge of her, her words hardly even registered for several seconds. "Um...would you like me to leave? Am I...bothering you?" Then, softer, "I just want to help you, Jack. We all do. But you... you won't say anything. You won't trust us."

 _You won't trust us._ Jack concealed a triumphant smirk. So he was right; that was their ploy. They wanted to gain his trust just so they could shatter it with their vicious smiles and brutal fists. "Of course you're not bothering me, ma'am," he said swiftly, politely in the hopes his words would be enough. "Uh...I'm fine now. You can...leave. If you want, of course."

Tooth shifted nervously. Jack assumed she nodded, for she said, "O-okay. I'll, um, see you soon. I'll make sure you get something to eat, okay?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

She laughed, just as nervously. "Uh, you're- you're welcome. But you, uh, you don't have to call me ma'am or anything like that! You could...you can just call me Tooth. Okay?"

"Yes, Tooth." Obey orders. Don't step out of line.

"Right. I'll- I'll be going now. I'll send someone to check on you soon!" He saw her feet move off the ground; heard her wing-beats take her all the way to the door, then out. She closed the door behind her.

With a groan, Jack settled back into his bed once more. These were going to be some long next couple of weeks.

* * *

The next few days passed by in much the same manner. One or more of the Guardians would drop by to see him every day, or sometimes a few times a day. Phil the Yeti brought him food. Other yetis monitored his healing process, but Jack allowed no one except himself to change his bandages- to touch him in any way. He could tell the yetis weren't pleased about it, but after Jack had thrown a frosty shield around himself they gave up.

He'd nearly passed out from the effort of using that much magic without losing control (without his staff, he could use only small bits of his powers without accidentally unleashing a blizzard), but at least...at least he didn't have to put up with the yetis anymore.

One thing that was odd was that Jack had yet to see Sandy. He'd seen the other three Guardians quite often over the last week; North he saw every day at least once, Bunny and Tooth every other or every few days. Sandy, however, he'd yet to see once. Although he was quite grateful he didn't have to deal with the fourth Guardian when he was still quite injured, weak, and basically imprisoned inside the infirmary, it made him even more suspicious and distrustful of him. What could Sandy be doing that he thought was more important than keeping up their nice little game of pretend? Jack knew quite well Sandy was an excellent actor, so...

The yeti who'd been checking over his heart-rate and other such vitals bustled out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Jack alone. Once he was sure the yeti wasn't coming back (he really needed to learn that one's name at some point, seeing as Phil was the only one he knew by name), he reached under his bed and brought out a sketchbook and a set of graphite pencils.

Bunny had given them to him three days ago, saying that Jack must've missed being able to draw and that all his supplies had been thrown out or broken. Although making up an entire hobby for Jack to have done was quite a step, Jack had accepted the materials anyway. Partially out of fear, of course, but partially because...well, he'd always wanted to draw. He'd spent much of his lonely three centuries crafting ice crystals and snowflakes, making each as unique as possible. The idea of actually putting his ideas onto something permanent, long-lasting, something that wouldn't melt when touched by a ray of sun...it was very appealing.

So he'd taken the paper and pencils from the Guardian and he'd been drawing ever since. As unused as he was to graphite on paper, his first drawings were honestly not the best. But Jack hadn't let it discourage him and had kept drawing, that one task occupying most of his time throughout the past few days. He'd painstakingly created a pencil-sharpener out of ice the day before when his pencils had gotten so blunt there wasn't any point left. Now, with perfectly sharpened pencils, he set to work once more.

First, he'd drawn snowflake after snowflake, wanting to create as many designs as possible. But that had gotten old after the first few hours, so he'd gone from snowflakes to ice sculptures to glittering snowfalls in Antarctica. Now, he bit his lip and tried to remember what a penguin looked like. It had been several years since he'd seen once last, and drawing from memory wasn't the easiest, but he sketched a rough outline and slowly added details in. The feathers were what he remembered best, so he took his time there, smiling a little bit as he added shading and it began to actually _look_ like a penguin.

Jack winced, redirecting his gaze to the too-long bill. Well, at least the feathers did.

He erased the beak and closed his eyes. What did penguins' beaks look like? He couldn't remember. As water birds, they had to be longer than, say, hawks, but _how_ long? He tried shortening it and frowned. Erased it. Tried widening it and sighed, shook his head. Erased it again.

So caught up in his drawing was Jack that he didn't even notice a soft knock at the door. Didn't even notice when the knock sounded again, slightly louder. Or again. Still didn't notice when the knob turned and the door opened.

But when Sandy walked in, glowing like the night sky he was rumored to have once traveled through, Jack slowly turned his head. And stiffened.

Sandy's face was...apologetic? He made a few symbols above his head. Jack had learned early on to read the symbols out of fear of more punishment, so he easily got what the Sandman was trying to say. _I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep._

Jack said nothing. He shrank a little farther back, skin pressing against the wall his bed was set against. The heart monitor began beeping faster, matching Jack's heartbeat. _No._ He clenched his hands into fists, felt his heart pump faster, faster, faster. _No. No please no please no no no no..._

At some point, he realized he must have been saying the words out loud because Sandy's expression changed, but Jack didn't bother deciphering it, just shut his mouth and stared straight at Sandy- not his eyes, but his hands. Jack thought about begging, but his heart was racing faster still, his breathing racing with it, his chest starting to heave and he couldn't- he couldn't look at Sandy, couldn't take it anymore, not when he was injured and hurt and weak and _scared,_ no _terrified,_ he was terrified, he was- was-

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Jack jerked violently, too panicked to realize the touch had been gentle, not harsh, nor that Sandy's eyes were concerned- no, false, fake, he wasn't concerned, he'd never been concerned before, _why would he start now-_ and Jack scooted off the bed, ripped out the IVs, lurched to his feet, backed away from the Guardian. _Please please please please don't do it don't do it I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryI'msorrypleasedon'tdoitI'm-_

Symbols were flying wildly above Sandy's head, and the sight of the dreamsand sent Jack flying further into his terror. He began to back away, inching towards the door he'd never been out of, the door he _knew_ would get him in trouble for stepping out of, but maybe trouble didn't mean _Sandy-_ Sandy meant _fear_ and _notrealnotrealnotrealNOTREAL-_

Words were flying out of Jack's mouth at a rate he couldn't comprehend and he _knew- knew_ he needed to get out of there, because there was Sandy and Sandy wasn't coming towards him but the dreamsand was still _there_ and _what if he threw it Jack couldn't dodge with a broken leg-_ he inched farther, eyes wide and terrified and not daring to move from the Sandman's tiny body. Sandy still stood there but the _dreamsand_ still flickered above his head and Jack inched more, closer and closer, backing up but-

"Sandy! What are you doing here? Is Jack asle-"

Jack hit something as unmoving as a wall in the space inside the door-frame. He half-turned and side-stepped, eyes frantically searching for even the smallest bit of room he could squeeze through, could _run he needed to run he neededtoru-_

"Jack? Jack, are you alright?"

But North's voice only added to his terror and he lunged blindly at the door, not caring that North's body was still in it, only knowing he _needed to get away. from. Sandy._ Air was hard to come by, and Jack's lungs weren't working properly; tiny, rapid breaths not taking in enough oxygen. In some part far in the back of his brain Jack knew he didn't have much time until he passed out.

North moved, and finally there was room. Jack lunged again, slipping through North's grasping arms, sliding past his bulk and running.

He sprinted down the hallway, breaths coming so fast his vision began to darken, ducking blindly into what his brain had catalogued as a safe room, not bothering to shut the door before he dove into a pile of reject blankets and pillows and buried himself in them.

Jack expected footsteps to sound after him, but only silence met his ears. After North and Sandy failed to come after him for several seconds, Jack closed his eyes and leaned back into the blankets. His breathing slowly began to return to normal.

Several minutes later, he heard footsteps coming towards him. A quiet voice accompanied them. Jack forced himself to breathe evenly as he recognized the voice as North- which meant Sandy must be there too, since North wouldn't just talk to himself.

"No, he could not have. He does not have his staff."

A pause.

"Well, we tried to give it to him but he refused. Just the sight of it seemed to...scare him."

Jack raised his head out of the blankets, listening intently. This was as good a way as any to discover their true plans.

"Yes, he has a badly broken leg. I am not sure how he was able to run on it, but..." North's tone seemed upset. The footsteps were getting closer now; now they paused. Jack's eyes went wide. Of course! This room was only a few doors down from Sandy's guest room. Although it meant their chances of detecting him were higher, it also meant Sandy might finally reveal his plot. Jack cautiously crawled out of the blankets and up to the cracked-open door, hiding against the wall so they wouldn't see him.

North heaved a sigh. "He still believes we were the ones who hurt him. We have tried to get him to know reason, but he grows angry when we do. Pitch- if it is Pitch- has done his work well."

Another pause.

"He will not tell us anything. He believes we have already lived through it, after all. Whatever he believes you did to him, Sandy...we have no idea." North huffed, voice rising a bit in frustration, then paused again. "You...want to stay here at North Pole? Sandy, that..." North hesitated, seeming to be trying to find the right words. "It might not be good idea, no? You saw...how Jack reacted to seeing you."

Jack cautiously peeped out to see North's back and Sandy's faintly glowing face. Something about Sandy's glow was strange, almost, but Jack decided not to think about it, even as the mere sight of the two Guardians threatened to drive him to panic again. He closed his eyes. _They can't hurt you here. They don't even know you're here._

More symbols flashed over the Sandman's head. Jack was fairly quick at interpreting them, but North was quicker- quicker, Jack thought uneasily, than he remembered North being. Not much, but he didn't question his interpretation anymore, just answered- like he had more practice. Or had simply cared more to learn.

"And," North continued, apparently ignoring Sandy's thoughts- Jack had translated it out to mean something like 'I want to make sure he heals properly'- "You have dreamsand to share with children. They...they have more need of you than Jack does, my friend. He...right now, he..."

Sandy crossed his arms and glared at the other Guardian. A snowflake, food, sleep, bandages...then a question mark. _What does he need, then?_

There was a long silence. "I...do not know."

More symbols. _We lost him for three years. Now he thinks we're like Pitch._ Sandy scowled. Added a sign. _Worse than Pitch. And he's hurt._ It wasn't lost on Jack that Sandy used not just Jack's snowflake, but a brain as well, to symbolize _hurt._

As though those last words had been some truth neither Guardian had wanted to face, both of them slumped. The anger in Sandy's expression slowly drained, to be replaced by sadness.

"And he thinks it was we who did it to him. Sandy, how have we failed him so much?"

Jack pulled back from the door at the sound of North's voice. The Guardian of Wonder sounded more hurt than Jack ever remembered hearing before.

There was such a long silence that Jack finally looked back again. He saw the Guardian of Wonder and the Guardian of Dreams standing there, pain and sadness in every inch of their caved-in shoulders, their lowered heads. Finally, North straightened, but his voice still held a shadow of that grief and guilt when he spoke again. "Good night, my friend. Tomorrow, we will call Bunny and Tooth and discuss, yes?"

Sandy nodded. _Good night,_ he said in his own way.

North walked away and Sandy silently shut the door to his room. Jack drew back and stared up at the ceiling.

What had he just heard?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Italics are Jack's thoughts, OR the word equivalent/translation of Sandy's signing._

 _"Italics" with quotation marks are Sandy speaking mind-to-mind, inside someone's head._

* * *

Jack just sat there for several minutes staring up at the ceiling, emotions a whirlwind inside of him. He'd just seen Sandy and North have a conversation about him, heard them reveal their plans. Their plans...

To...help him.

But how could that be? He'd heard the two Guardians say themselves they had no idea where he was. The pain he'd seen in them, their clear distress and want to fix things...all of that was real.

Wasn't it?

 _Unless,_ that niggling, cynical voice in his head muttered, _they knew you were there and all that was just a front._

Jack shook his head forcefully, as if the motion could render the thought false. No, surely that was too much. Surely not even Sandy would think of something like that. But, despite himself, unease settled deep inside his bones and his features pinched anxiously. He sat with his back against the wall for several minutes, brain caught between thinking too much and not thinking anything at all, the unease refusing to let go of him. A part of him didn't want to think about his current predicament; didn't want to think about what it meant if they had set the entire conversation up. He didn't want to think about what it meant if they hadn't, even more.

Just as he'd begun to incite his brain into actually attempting to solve his problems, a shadow flitted by in his peripheral vision. The movement registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but Jack thought nothing of it, beginning to go through the first steps of his problem. _What would they have to gain from setting that up?_ As exhausted and sluggish as he was from the aftermath of his panic attack, the effort required to maintain that thought process took all his concentration, rendering him completely susceptible to outside attacks. Which, perhaps, was just the opportunity Jack's watchers had been waiting for.

Jack had been subconsciously aware he was being watched for days- ever since he'd awoken in the infirmary, even. He'd put it down to either his imagination or to the Guardians. He was wrong on both accounts.

As broken and drained and exhausted as Jack was, he only sat there numbly, the moving shadows going unnoticed. Until a cascade of darkness broke forth into the room, slithering around him, covering his mouth with a shadowy hand to prevent him from screaming. Gold eyes peered at him from all around him and Jack stared back, eyes wide and terrified.

"We have come for you, Jack Frost," they hissed, strangely amplified as if all of them spoke at once.

Jack thrashed violently, sending a screwdriver to the ground as his foot connected with the table it had been sitting on. The tool hit the floor with a sharp clang and the shadows tensed, freezing for a moment. "You will be silent," they said, and instantly shadows latched onto his legs, arms, and torso, pinning him down. Jack thrashed again but to no avail. Fear was pulsing through his body, quickening his heartbeat and sending adrenaline through his veins. He desperately tried to calm himself down, but some deep part of him saw the shadows and knew they were _wrong._

Humanity had always had an innate fear of the dark, of the unknown. These shadows were both, and Jack was no braver than anyone else. Restrained and afraid, he lay there helplessly, eyes staring into the innumerable pairs of gold eyes looking straight back at him.

"We have been waiting many years for this," they said. "We have a King; now we will have a Prince." Something like hideous, broken laughter sounded among them, and once again Jack felt in his bones, _not right,_ but along with it, a strange sense of familiarity."We have waited for this...for _you..._ for longer than you can imagine. Eons longer than your very existence." Jack struggled again, trying to wrest free of the shadows's grip on his mouth. "And now you are finally ready."

The shadows loosened around him, most likely drawing back to attack. Jack ripped free of them and screamed, "Help me!"

He had no idea if it would work; had no idea if Sandy, as deeply asleep as he probably was, would even hear. But whatever the Guardians would do to him, he couldn't imagine it would be any worse than what these- _things_ could do. Would do, if only given the chance.

"Help me!" he screamed again, the last word cut off by the shadows as they choked him, hissing in displeasure.

"You have no right to speak! You are _worthless!_ You are nothing." A shadow, slimy and cold, touched his forehead, and instantly Jack saw the Guardians; saw them taunting him, beating him, laughing at him. "You _will_ obey us. You _will_ let us-"

Gold light, and the door banged against the wall. The shadows retreated away from the light, dragging Jack with them by the arms. But something warm wrapped around Jack's ankle, pulling him back. Jack glanced down. A golden whip, a dreamsand whip. Sandy.

His fear increased as Sandy continued to pull, the shadows tugging back until Jack wondered if his body would split in two. Now that he was actually faced with a choice between the two, the choice was debilitating. Even though the shadows were terrifying, even though he knew whatever they had in mind for him was terrible, Sandy's mere presence was almost as awful. He...he didn't know how he would be able to decide. _If_ he would be able to decide. Wasn't evil still evil no matter the form? Couldn't evil still be evil even when that form was a coworker, a 'fellow' Guardian, a 'friend?'

Was Sandy any better than these shadows?

"Give up, Sandman," the shadows hissed. "You have lost a friend to us already. Surely one more will not be of consequence?"

With his back to Sandy, Jack had no idea what expression the Guardian was making, but the whip ensnaring his ankle gave a mighty tug. For a brief moment, Jack thought his arms would get wrenched out of their sockets from the strain, but finally the shadows lost their grip on him and he tumbled backwards into the wall with a resounding thud. Sandy stepped in front of him, whips at the ready. Symbols flashed above his head, but Jack was too dazed to read them, head throbbing in a way that suggested he'd just been given a concussion.

Whatever Sandy had said apparently wasn't worth a response, for the shadows swarmed forward around him. But Sandy simply let out a soft breath, filling the air with his dreamsand. Its soft glow shed light onto the shadows, light that they automatically cowered away from. And as they hesitated, Sandy made his move. He struck out with his whips, the dreamsand cutting shadows in two. Before they could reform their ranks he struck again, ripping, shredding the shadows apart. Again, and again, and again. He fought at a speed Jack had difficulty processing, whips a blur of motion around him as he downed one shadow after another. They clawed at him repeatedly but never hit, the dreamsand swirling around him making him almost invincible.

But then one of them finally got into its head the idea of slipping past Sandy's guard and taking Jack, still stunned and seeing everything in double. It waited until its brethren had distracted Sandy, slipping past the Sandman and edging towards Jack. In the span of a second it wrapped itself around Jack. He thrashed instinctively, shouting against the gag. Sandy half-turned at the noise and sent one of his whips towards Jack. The devastating power behind that one whip easily sliced through the shadow like it was nothing- then did the same to Jack's shoulder where it had clung. The boy gasped, tears welling in his eyes as blood slowly oozed into his hoodie, onto the floor.

Sandy's eyes widened in something akin to horror. But even as he turned back to the shadows converging on him, his temporary distraction cost him. The shadows finally got through his defenses, one of them clawing his face before a golden whip severed the shadowy claw. Another managed to latch onto his leg, but was killed just as promptly. Blood, just as red as a human's, began to ooze from his wounds, but Sandy didn't let the pain deter him. With an impressive burst of energy, he sliced a half-dozen shadows in half with a single stroke, then killed another two with its return.

Finally, the shadows seemed to realize they weren't going to win. They began to retreat- slowly at first, then swifter and swifter until only one remained. It locked eyes with Jack and hissed out, "until next time, _Prince."_

Then it vanished.

Sandy just stood there for a moment, whips at the ready. Then as it became apparent their enemies weren't coming back, he spun around and ran towards Jack, kneeling beside him with an expression of apologetic horror on his face. Despite the fact that he was seeing double and was light-headed from blood loss, Jack still managed a flinch as Sandy reached for him.

 _"I am so, so sorry."_

Jack recoiled and lurched to his feet, unsteadily scrambling away from the much smaller man. "How- what- what did you just do!?" He tried to move further back but hit the wall. In order to escape, he'd have to move back towards Sandy, then turn his back on the Guardian to get through the doorway. He was trapped.

Sandy remained where he was on the ground. He held up his hands in placation. _I can speak inside minds,_ he said, but this time he spelled out the words with his dreamsand. He must've reasoned that, as terrified as Jack was, he wouldn't be able to puzzle out dreamsand signs.

But, as disoriented as Jack was, the glittering sand words were almost impossible for him to read. Every time he tried to, they seemed to double in his vision, making his head spin. The only word he could make out was the word _can,_ which wasn't exactly helpful.

"I don't...I don't understand," he finally murmured, crying out as his shoulder throbbed. When he looked down, a steady trail of blood was dripping from his shoulder onto the ground. "My- my head..."

 _"May I?"_

Once again, Jack heard the words inside his head. A part of him wondered at hearing Sandy's voice for the first time. It was soft, gentle, and ancient, higher-pitched than Jack had expected. It had a strange accent Jack had never heard before, something lilting and vaguely middle-eastern. But the part of him that wondered was quickly overpowered by the rest of him, the much larger part that could only remember the times Sandy had invaded his dreams and how well _that_ had turned out.

He flinched, turning his head away from the Sandman. "Get out," he said, half a whimper, half a plea. "P-p-please."

 _"You're hurt,"_ Sandy said gently, still inside his mind, _"And it's my fault. Please allow me to help."_

"Get out," Jack pleaded again. "Please, please, p-please get out of my head. _Please."_ But he had already bowed his head, as if recognizing that Sandy would do what he wanted. Jack had no say in it.

Sandy slowly rose from the ground. He was still bleeding from a cut on his cheek, and as he took a step forward, he heavily favored his right leg. His calm, golden eyes met with Jack's terrified blue, and held. He seemed to convey a message in his eyes; a message that murmured that he wouldn't hurt Jack. Jack glanced away after a few seconds, unable to hold the Guardian's gaze.

"Please d-don't...please don't hurt me again." Jack's tone seemed empty despite the words, as if, despite Sandy's reassurance, he knew Sandy wouldn't listen. "P-please."

Sandy took another step, then another. He reached out a hand, stopping a few inches away from Jack's injured shoulder. He waited a few moments until Jack relaxed fractionally, then moved closer. Above his head, he spelled out another dreamsand message. _Please let me tend to your shoulder. It needs to be dealt with as soon as possible._

Jack squinted above Sandy. Something about a shoulder...something happening soon...

He stared down at the Guardian, a little bewildered. If that message said what he thought it might... "Do you want to..." he hesitated. Sandy nodded encouragingly. Jack's doubled vision made it look more ominous than encouraging, but he finished anyway, "...my shoulder?"

It was an incomplete question, but Sandy nodded anyway. Spelling out the words again, he said _it's bleeding badly. It will most likely require stitches. We need to get you back to the infirmary._

Jack blinked. Bleeding badly...require...back to the... "I need to go back to the infirmary?" The thought made his insides quail. The room had become his new prison, just like his bedroom had been.

Another nod. Sandy gently placed a hand on Jack, who flinched away and held his hands out as a barrier between them. _I can carry you,_ Sandy added. _You shouldn't walk on your own._

The only word Jack could make out was 'carry,' but that was enough for his brain to hit the panic button once more. "No, no, no that's fine that's fine I- I don't need, I can...walk, walking's good I can walk..." he trailed off. His vision was rapidly darkening and he felt unconsciousness closing in on him. "I can... I can..."

Jack fell forward, straight into a waiting Sandy. The Guardian flicked his wrist and created a bed for the boy to rest on, smiling faintly as a tiny dreamsand dolphin and two golden penguins sprang to life above Jack's head.

Now to get him back into the infirmary.

* * *

"Sandy, what have you done?"

Sandy barely looked up from his place over Jack, hands deftly examining the deep wound in the boy's shoulder. When he'd sent one of his whips over to take the Fearling off of Jack, he hadn't expected it to go straight through the creature and into his fellow Guardian. Now, seeing how deeply it had cut- practically down to the bone- Sandy deeply repented of his foolishness. This kind of wound would take weeks to heal, and that was assuming the muscle damage wasn't as substantial as he feared.

What hadhe done, indeed.

He sent several symbols floating above his head by way of explanation. _Fearlings attacked. I hit him in the midst of all the fighting._ Mind-to-mind communication, or telepathy, was something Sandy generally shied away from. He'd always felt like using it was an invasion of others's privacy, instead opting to use his dreamsand to create symbols. But in his shock and horror over seeing Jack, a spirit he'd come to care for and miss, so very injured by his own hands, he'd instinctively gone straight into Jack's head. He regretted it now deeply, seeing as it had just made Jack's fear worse, and resolved once more not to ever use it again unless it was absolutely necessary.

 _"You_ did that?" North sounded appalled. "Sandy, is very bad."

Sandy fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if he didn't know that.

 _Can you get the yetis?_ He asked. _I'm not sure how to proceed from here._

"Yes, yes of course," North said distractedly. His gaze flicked back down to Jack, and Sandy saw something like anguish pass over his expression. He knew well that North hated to see Jack like this just as much as Sandy himself did.

"PHIL!" North bellowed. "Come quickly!"

Sandy clapped his hands over his ears at the sudden noise and glared. Once North had turned back to him, he signed with a scowl, _we don't want to wake Jack up right now. He'll just make himself worse._

"Ah, of course, Sandy," North said a little sheepishly. "Is my wrong."

Padded footsteps sounded down the hall. Phil burst into the room along with several other yetis, and their eyes all instantly went towards Jack. Then they all just stared a moment, horrified. After several moments of that, North clapped his hands and they jumped out of their stupor, turning back around to their boss. "Is very bad, yes? Phil, do you know of way to heal wounds that deep?"

Phil hesitated, then garbled out a few sentences. Sandy wasn't an expert in Yetish, but he thought it was something like, "We just got new, advanced medical technology that could possibly, but we've never used it before."

"Well, use it now. He has lost lot of blood already."

Sandy stepped aside to let the yetis look at Jack. He crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, anger and guilt warring inside him. How had he let himself get out of control like that? He had used those whips for millenia- _eons-_ but after the lack of turmoil recently, he'd let himself grow rusty. Because of that, Jack was severely injured. He sighed internally, frustrated. Jack was already terrified of him; now he almost had reason to be, for accident or no, Sandy had now done something awful. He chanced a glance upwards and saw the yetis take Jack's hospital gown off, revealing once more the bandages and scars that marred Jack's pale skin. Blood had seeped through the white gown and now began to drip onto the bed, onto the yetis's fur.

"Sandy, walk with me." North's tone was quieter now. Sandy nodded and turned, walking with his fellow Guardian out the door. He expected North to raise his voice the moment they were out of earshot of the infirmary and demand how Sandy could've been so careless as to gravely injure one of their own, but instead the first thing out of his mouth was, "Sandy, are you alright?"

Sandy looked up in surprise, taking in North's compassionate expression. Such an inquiry was not what he would've expected from North; the Russian tended to be a very linear thinker, taking care of one problem at a time and having little mercy for the ones having caused it.

Sandy nodded slowly. _I'm fine. Just worried about Jack._

"You said you hit him while fighting Fearlings?" North's tone had an edge to it now. Not anger over Sandy hitting Jack- no, it was an edge of fear, of apprehension at the thought of Fearlings roaming free about the world.

 _Yes. They attacked him first, and his screams woke me up. I fended them off for awhile, but one of them slipped behind me to get to Jack. I killed it, but my whip went straight through it and into Jack._

North nodded slowly. His face was set in a frown. "Why would they attack Jack?" he asked himself, almost too low to hear. He looked back down at Sandy and said, "Did they say why?"

Sandy shook his head. _By the time I came in, there was only fighting. However..._ He hesitated. _I heard them say something as they left. They called him Prince._ He looked up at North, and nodded somberly at the surprise, horror, and fear taking root on North's face. _We need to keep guard over him, North. There's no telling when the Fearlings will come back for him._

North nodded, eyes faraway. "Yes, you are right. Sandy, could you keep watch until he wakes? I know you have job, but I must look in library. Perhaps it will have something about the Fearlings."

Sandy shrugged. _I can give children dreams from any location; it's simply easier when I'm closer. I will stay with Jack for tonight. I doubt you'll find anything on the Fearlings, though. No book written in this world should have knowledge of them._

North remained silent for awhile, most likely decoding what Sandy was saying. Even though they'd worked together for thousands of years, Sandy's signs were still often a mystery to all of the Guardians, even North. If Sandy were a little more petty, he might have held against them the fact that none of them had ever made much of an effort to understand him, but Sandy was old, and he had better things to do than to hold petty grudges. As long as the children were never endangered by the Guardians's lack of understanding, Sandy was content.

"You are probably right," North said finally, "But still, there is a small chance I will find something. I will also ask Bunny if he knows anything. Well, goodnight, my friend. I will see you in the morning."

 _Goodnight, friend. Sweet dreams._ Sandy turned away and started his walk back to the infirmary.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack floated into consciousness as slowly as a snowdrift melts in March. His head felt stuffy and heavy, his body leaden. For once, however, he felt warm; warm and soft and safe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt safe.

That unconscious thought was what forced Jack into awareness. He'd lived three centuries without that feeling.

Jack forced his bleary eyes open in order to scan the room. It took a few seconds for the room to register in his brain; a few more to recognize it. When he did, his heart sank. He was back in his bed inside the infirmary. Not safe, then.

He moved his arms, intending to push himself up to a sitting position, but the moment he moved his left shoulder, a bolt of agony seared through his senses. He let out an involuntary sound, more scream than cry, and hastily let it flop back down on the bed. For a moment he was bewildered. What had happened to him? How had it happened? He'd never felt so much pain from a single injury before.

Jack glanced down at his left side and saw a mound of bandages. Slowly, his gaze slid from left to right. When he'd moved his arm, the pain had been so vibrant, so terrible, he hadn't even managed to locate its source. But now as a dull, aching throb began to resound up and down his body, he was able to identify exactly where his injury was.

Except it was _huge._ Jack couldn't remember getting an injury this wide and this started at his left shoulder, cutting diagonally down and to the right to about his bottom rib, and it was horrendously was deep and long and the most painful thing Jack had ever had to deal with. The Guardians had cut him up before, yes, but they'd never made incisions this long before, and certainly not this bad. What could have possibly made something like this? Who could have possibly done something like this?

He ached to pull off the bandages and discover exactly what had happened, but he knew that if he did, he might very well bleed out before he managed to bandage it back up again. The cut must've just barely missed his heart for him not to be dead. Even still, how was he alive? And how had this even happened? His brain was fuzzy with sleep and pain, and even remembering the tiniest thing was difficult.

He closed his eyes, trying to think. He thought he remembered Sandy coming to visit...Jack running away...

He furrowed his brow. What had happened after that? He bit his lip, concentrating hard, and finally the memory came back like a case of whiplash.

Shadows...fear...Sandy...

 _Sandy._ Sandy had done this to him.

Jack remembered the moment the Sandman had appeared, golden sand gleaming amid the darkness of the shadows. He remembered the shadows pulling him away and Sandy's whip snagging on his ankle. He remembered the indecision of not knowing who he'd rather have take him. And then he remembered that, as Sandy had stepped in front of Jack in order to fight the shadow creatures, one of them had sneaked past the Guardian to attack Jack.

Sandy had turned around and his whip had hit Jack solidly in the chest.

Everything after that was a blur. Jack had found it almost impossible to think through the rapidly spreading blood and the concussion that throbbed inside his head like a death knell. But he remembered that Sandy had spoken inside his head; more than that, that he'd seemed _concerned_ about Jack, like he actually cared about the fact that Jack was hurt. He'd even seemed guilty that he'd been the one to strike Jack.

No silent malice. No sneering cruelty. Surely that would've been the time to show it?

But he hadn't. Sandy had only been guilty and worried.

Out of all the odd things that had happened with the Guardians lately, this was what confused Jack the most. The Sandy Jack knew wouldn't pass up on any opportunity to revel in another's pain. Sandy was quiet, yes, but he was more of a sadist than even Bunny. He seemed to think of giving pain as a sport to be engaged in: the more pain given, the more interesting it was. He'd once screwed with Jack's head to the extent that he'd hallucinated for three days. The strange things Jack's mind had dreamed up had since faded with time, but never, _never_ could he forget the one thing that had pulled him through the most recent months. Never could he forget that one memory, hallucination or otherwise, where they'd _cared._

As it was, the one real thing that had stuck through even the delusions was Sandy's cold, cruel smile.

Despite Sandy's clear glee at the hallucinations, Jack himself hadn't really been that bothered. Three centuries with companionship being a rare and highly prized commodity had sent Jack spiraling into insanity a few times here and there. Loneliness really screwed with your brain. Jack was used to the stress, the anxiety, and the occasional unavoidable delusions that accompanied it. However, Sandy hadn't known that. To this day, Jack couldn't recall a time the Guardian had looked happier.

But, despite the horrific wound Sandy himself had caused, Jack had never once seen anything like satisfaction on the man's face.

Jack huffed, shifting restlessly around in the bed. He'd think about that later, when his head no longer felt woozy and nausea had stopped curdling his stomach. His shoulder had started up a steady, dull throb- not anything he couldn't handle, but still annoying. Even shifting his legs seemed to make everything hurt more, but everything felt so stiff and cramped he couldn't help it.

He had just started to wonder how long he'd been out when the door opened and North walked in.

Jack froze, eyes wide.

North froze with him.

Then a smile spread over the man's face and he boomed, "Jack! Is nice to see you awake. You were, how you say, out of head."

Jack flinched back at the volume. The sudden movement set off his shoulder again and he hissed.

"Ah! I am sorry!" North exclaimed, then winced, apparently just realizing how loud he was being. In a considerably softer tone, he added, "how is your shoulder?"

Jack considered the words, the tone, the expression North had made. Again, he was confused. The very first thing he'd have expected North to ask was how soon Jack could return to work. And if Jack had answered with a response of more than one week, North would've given him three days and maybe a black eye.

So why did Jack hear something almost like concern in the Russian's voice?

"It's fine," he lied easily, knowing that was what North wanted to hear. "I should be back to work in..."

He couldn't finish. An injury lesser than this one had once taken a month to heal. Jack's healing factor was above a human's, especially during winter or whenever he could manage to submerge himself in ice. However, for something this big and deep, he seriously doubted he'd even be able to walk in a week.

But, he had to try.

"...a week at most," he finished.

He dared a glance back up at North, expecting annoyance, or worse, anger. But North was only staring at Jack and his eyes were pained and sad, his shoulders curving inwards.

"Jack, is this work...here? At Pole?"

Somehow, North's sheer vulnerability made Jack unable to muster up any annoyance. He just sighed in resignation and said, "Yes. I've worked here for two years, remember? I screwed up one winter so you told me to work for you instead."

North just stared, looking so utterly horrified, guilty and...saddened. Not annoyed. Not angry that Jack was wasting his time.

"I've been helping you with Christmas," Jack continued, "remember? I'm in charge of the designs for the sculptures and other artwork."

Jack's eyes flickered down and the last sentence he murmured as if to himself, "It makes the children happy, so..."

There was a few seconds' silence.

"Oh, Jack," North said softly. "We have failed you so very much."

Jack blinked.

Dormant fury unfurled.

 _How dare you?_ He wanted to ask, the same thing he'd yelled at Tooth mere days before. _How dare you act like you care? How dare you, after everything you've put me through? How dare you?!_

But he looked back up at North, at his rolled up sleeves, at the tattoos spiraling up his arms. Jack's anger shuddered, slowly reburying itself, settling deep inside his chest once more.

He couldn't deny that he was petrified of North. Not as much as he was of Sandy, but enough that once glance at the bolded, threatening _Naughty_ effectively curbed Jack's tongue. But the anger he'd held on his face still shone clear as day, and even as Jack endeavored to clear it, he knew it would be too late.

North was silent.

Again, it was odd. Out of character. North was loud by nature. If he were about to punish Jack, he'd be clear about it. The one good thing about North: Jack never had to wait in suspense.

Except for now.

After another silent second, Jack lifted his eyes from the sheets to North's arms. They were dropped by his sides, the muscles loose and relaxed.

Jack sucked in a breath. His eyes moved down to North's legs: they were close together, parallel, and straight-kneed. Not the stance of someone about to strike.

Could...could North have actually decided to let that go?

Finally, he let his eyes drift up North's torso, up curved-in shoulders, up North's face. Jack tensed, tightening his hands into fists.

North was watching him quietly, dark eyes soft but unreadable. "Week is not enough time, no? You are in pain right now."

"No," Jack protested quickly. "No, no, it's fine, I can take it, I-I'm not _weak-"_

"Jack." North gave him a long look that instantly shut the boy up. When Jack flinched, North shook his head regretfully but continued anyway, "You are not weak for feeling pain. That wound is very bad. You must stay in bed much longer than week."

Jack opened his mouth- to do what, he had no clue- but North met his eyes and Jack cowered away once more.

"Are you hungry?" North asked. "Or thirsty? You have been unconscious for almost two days."

Two _days?_

"What...what time is it?" Jack asked tentatively, ducking his head.

"Nine in the morning." Perhaps seeing Jack's expression, North added, "It is Wednesday morning."

It had been Monday evening when Sandy had come in, igniting the chain of events that had led to Jack's injury and hospitalization. He truly had been out for more than a day.

It was always strange to realize you'd been unconscious for such a long period of time; this time was no exception. He really should've expected it with an injury that bad, though, so it wasn't all that surprising. Just a bit strange. Jack frowned a bit and tried to move his legs again. No wonder his body felt so cramped.

North was looking at him expectantly. After staring back, confused and increasingly panicked, Jack hastily responded, "Oh! Oh, uh, no, I-I'm good. I'm not hungry or anything. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You must at least be thirsty."

Jack glanced back up at the Guardian, trying to analyze him. Was North actually, genuinely offering water? "No sir. Thank you."

"Jack, is not sir. Just North."

Jack stared at the ground, unable to muster up a response.

North seemed to sigh, but once again didn't seem angry. "Well, if that is all, I will go now. Will send Phil in to check up on you in a little bit, da?"

Jack nodded. "Thank you, North."

The Guardian cast one more troubled look on him before turning and walking out the door.

As it shut with a click, Jack lay back down against the pillows and sighed.

* * *

The darkness in front of Sandy loomed menacingly, a gaping maw in the twilight of southern Chile.

In all honesty, one of the last places Sandy would have expected Pitch's new lair to be in was South America. Pitch had always seemed to be very fond of Europe, where he'd spent the majority of the Dark Ages. He'd spent large amounts of time in Asia and North America, and occasionally even gone to Australia, but Sandy had never once heard of him setting foot in either Africa or South America.

Most likely, it was because of Sandy's noted presence in Africa that Pitch studiously kept away from that continent. But apparently South America was still fair game, for here Sandy was, barely a foot away from the cold, forbidding entrance of Pitch's hideout.

Sandy hesitated, one foot dangling in midair, halfway between the fading light of day and the absolute darkness of the lair. He hadn't told any of the other Guardians he was doing this. But after he'd so badly injured Jack in a confrontation with the supposedly long-dead Fearlings, Sandy didn't want to take any more chances. He needed to make sure of something before any more time passed. And this something, unfortunately, required that he talk to Pitch.

He sighed and stepped into the darkness, the soft glow of his sand doing little to illuminate his surroundings. Although he seriously doubted Pitch would want to talk to him, it _had_ only been seven years since he'd last been defeated. It could reasonably be expected that Pitch wouldn't be back to full power yet, and Sandy knew that without the Nightmares, Pitch would be even weaker. If Pitch didn't want to talk, Sandy reasoned, it shouldn't be too hard to make him.

The Sandman had been walking in near-blackness for about fifteen minutes before Pitch finally deigned to acknowledge him: probably an attempt to feel in control of a situation hopelessly out of the Nightmare King's hands.

Pitch announced his presence with a soft, midnight caress against Sandy's neck, then a dark laugh and the words, "Why, Sandman. What a pleasant surprise."

Sandy didn't bother glancing around, knowing Pitch wasn't actually there in person. He just kept walking. Two Dreamsand whips flared to life in his hands.

"You're being unusually quiet today," Pitch taunted. "Cat got your tongue?"

Again, only silence met him.

A sigh resounded down the darkened hallways.

"Oh, you're simply no fun." Pitch paused. "Oh...could that be it? Did something happen to your precious Frost? I heard he just came back after three years of being MIA."

Sandy stopped. Crossed his arms. He created a single golden arrow and pointed it straight to himself. He knew that the expression on his face left no room for dithering, knew the unspoken message Sandy had never had to vocalize with Pitch. Either Pitch came quickly, or Sandy would find him himself.

"Trying to order me around in my own lair? How arrogant of you, Sandman." But the shadows began to shift, the darkness of Pitch's lair lightening. Within seconds, it had grown light enough for Sandy to see Pitch as he appeared directly in front of Sandy.

Sandy made a show of looking around, and tilted his head at Pitch. He created a tiny Dreamsand Nightmare above his head, followed by a question mark.

Pitch's expression darkened instantly, clearly taking offense at Sandy's mocking question. "They're exactly where I wish them to be right now."

Sandy nodded, making sure to look unconvinced. He knew it was a lie, and even better, that Pitch knew that he knew. Sandy's comment had served to put Pitch off-balance, with the other spirit now wondering exactly how much Sandy knew about Pitch's current state.

 _I'm sure,_ he signed, keeping just the right amount of mockery in his expression. _Although...I couldn't help but notice your lair's looking a little worn, isn't it?_

Pitch stared at the signs for a moment in order to decipher them. When he finally spoke, his face and voice were both so carefully controlled Sandy knew he was close to losing it. "Now, now, I'm simply trying out a new style of interior decorating. What do the humans call it- minimalism? I've found I'm not overly fond of it."

 _I see._ Sandy nodded. He briefly debated over whether mentioning Pitch's significantly rundown appearance would help him, before deciding against it. _Enough small-talk. I want to know what you had to do with Jack's disappearance three years ago, and his reappearance a week ago._

Pitch blinked, and for an instant looked genuinely surprised. "Me? I think you overestimate me, Sandman."

Sandy raised an eyebrow. He wasn't buying Pitch's act.

"Come, think about it," Pitch encouraged, waving a pale, spidery hand. "You had only just defeated me four years before. I confess that I simply did not have the power to do anything of the sort you think I did to Jack.

"Even now," he continued, although there was clear reluctance in his tone, "I'm hardly strong enough to subdue the Spirit of Winter, let alone to keep him locked up for three years and to tor-"

Sandy cut him off with a burst of golden sand and a solid glare.

Pitch huffed. "If you want the truth, then there you have it. I've had nothing to do with your precious Guardian child. Indeed, as you've so _charitably_ pointed out, my Nightmares have largely run off. I couldn't have done anything to him, even if I wanted to."

His eyes glittered dangerously and his form seemed to sink back into the shadows. Sandy understood the unspoken sentence: _You, on the other hand..._

Sandy tightened his grip on his whips, reminding himself that even if Pitch had lost a significant amount of power, he was still a force to be reckoned with. But then the hard lines around Pitch's mouth softened, and when he spoke he seemed almost regretful.

"Even though I loath the mere thought of you _Guardians,_ Jack is different. I do not wish him ill."

Sandy searched Pitch's eyes, his face, for hints of a lie but found none. Either Pitch was a fantastically good actor, or...

The Sandman nodded once, a curt response. _Very well. I'll believe you for now. But if you're lying..._

Sandy cracked his whips, just hard enough to get his point across.

Pitch, to his credit, didn't even flinch; he just nodded in understanding. "I would expect nothing less from you, Sandman. But I'll warn you: do not underestimate me. Jack is a Head Seasonal and the most powerful of you all, despite his age and lack of combat training. I might not be willing, or able, to attack him, but the rest of you..."

Pitch smirked. The gold in his eyes flashed, a mockery of the sand he'd corrupted. "Let's just say, I don't have as many qualms about attacking you."

Sandy nodded in turn and echoed, _I would expect nothing less._

But both knew that Pitch would not attack Sandy; not with the powers he currently had at his disposal. So Sandy turned and put his back to the Nightmare King and walked away.

And although he endeavored not to show it, inside his heart was troubled. For if Pitch was honest in saying that he had had no part in kidnapping Jack...

...who, then, had done it?

* * *

 **A/N:** If you disagree with Pitch's saying that Jack is the most powerful Guardian, hear me out. I'm not talking about who would win in a fight (which is extremely subjective and varies widely depending on the day and who the fight's against), but about who has the most raw potential. In my mind, the four other Guardians have already reached the height of their fighting abilities. Jack has not.

If we take a look at the other Guardians' fighting abilities, only one other Guardian even has magic. North and Tooth have their swords and Bunny his boomerangs, but none of them have any abilities that could even compare to Pitch's shadows. Sandy's basically Pitch's opposite and can combat pretty well with his powers, but he still wasn't enough to beat Pitch. Jack caused more damage than any of the Guardians when fighting, and this kid hasn't had nearly the same organized fighting experience the rest of them have. Sandy's been fighting for millenia, and Jack has only been alive for 300 years, and I'm willing to bet he didn't see many fights in those years other than fistfights with other spirits.


End file.
